Page 89 of Ashborne Forged

But Breckon took a step forward, relying on Donavyn to raise a hand and keep us apart. “Two weeks ago. In the alley behind a tavern in your city. My man thought he’d found her. When we got there, this man was in the shadows, his presence stopping us from entering. But my man assured me she was inside. I charged him with waiting until it was safe, then bringing her. Then I left.

“But he never returned to our rooms. It took us days to find him—only to discover that he had a Furyknight’s blade in his throat. He’d been discovered dead within minutes of our leaving—when this man was right there. Waiting.”

I felt Grace turn cold, and made a split second decision. “Yes, I killed him,” I said quickly, as her eyes bulged. “He tried to rob me.”

“Bullshit,” Breckon spat. “I paid him very well. He had no reason to divert from his task. Unless you intervened.”

I glared at him. “Your man was a greedy footpad, and thief. The street was safer without him,” I said without hesitation.

‘Voski—no!’

I snapped my head to look at her—I’d heard her voice! Thin, and distant, but in my head.

‘I heard you! Grace, listen to me, if this goes wrong, keep taking the herbs and make him wait—’

“I am finished dealing with these… feral people,” Breckon snapped, turning to the queen. “I refuse to indulge this conversation further. Either you have ruled for me, or against me—and I will return to Fyrehold now, to report to my king in either course.”

When Diaan took a deep breath and shook her head, my heart rose—would she call his bluff and tell him to leave without Grace?

“I cannot deny your claim to the young woman,” Diaan said through her teeth. “But neither will I allow her to live a life of torment. You will be held to the contract. As soon as she produces an heir, she is to be returned to Vosgaarde.”

Gil and Ronen caught me as I lunged toward Grace—whose heart plummeted into despair at those words. Gil clapped a hand over my mouth and Donavyn glared at me as the queen turned, but Breckon wasn’t done. I struggled, screaming into Gil’s palm, scrambling to wrench his hand from my face.

“I’ll take her—and I’ll sing your praises to my king, Your Majesty. I’ll even let her return to her duty when she has provided the heir. But only if this man is appropriately punished for killing my man, and assaulting me!”

Diaan turned to stare at me, her eyes dark with warning. “Put him in chains. I’ll address him later,” she ordered quietly.

“No! Please, Your Majesty!” Grace gasped. “Please!”

I roared behind Gil’s hand and almost succeeded in throwing him from me bodily. He and Ronen wrestled, hissing at me to stop and think. But I couldn’t—fear, rage, despair pumped my heart and fired my veins.

The sound of Grace’s cries threw me into a tailspin. I clawed, and punched, kicked and screamed, twisting, roaring, trying to throw myself across the room to her as she was grasped by Breckon again, and pulled toward the door. I fought so hard, I saw stars, and couldn’t breathe—until a single, feminine shout rang through the room, and a moment later, Gil’s face appeared right in front of me—one eye half-closed and puffy.

“Sorry, brother,” he muttered, then pinched my shoulder.

Everything went black.

30. Follow Me

SOUNDTRACK: Running out of Time by Tommee Profitt and Staarz

~ GRACE ~

The first time I landed an elbow in Breckon’s ribs, he cursed. The second, he picked me up and carried me under his arm like a child. But he wearied quickly, and when I got an arm loose and landed a punch straight into his mostly-flat belly, he snapped.

I thought, when his hand went for his belt, that he was going to rape me, right there in the queen’s brightly lit corridor. I scrambled to my feet from where he’d dumped me on the ground, and tried to flee. But he caught my arm, wrenching it back and pulling me against him with a snarled curse. Feeling the heat of him against me, my skin went cold like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over my head.

I sobbed with relief, when he only used the belt to loop around my wrists to keep my hands secured at my back.

I continued to fight as best I could, but my head was a cauldron of sensations, screaming alarms, dragon images, and echoing despair, as I tried, again and again, to reach Voski in the bond.

He’d heard me once. He could do it again.

But no matter what, or how often I tried. There was nothing. I mentally screamed into the void.

By the time we were out of the castle and Breckon tossed me to the floor of the grand carriage, the horses danced and tossed their heads again, because Koa had followed me, and now circled high overhead, screaming.

‘The mate! The mate! Firebird, you must fly!’